


concrete hazy

by shandygaff



Category: Haikyuu!!
Genre: Alternate Universe - High School, Gen, POV Second Person, atsumu always speaks, implied mundane magic, lapslock, or something along those lines, while osamu always sleeps
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2017-04-08
Updated: 2017-04-08
Packaged: 2018-10-16 08:30:53
Rating: General Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 916
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/10567524
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/shandygaff/pseuds/shandygaff
Summary: i have a twin, you know, you tell anyone who listens.





	

**Author's Note:**

  * For [nautilics](https://archiveofourown.org/users/nautilics/gifts).



_i have a twin, you know_ , you tell anyone who listens. _a sleepy, sleepy twin._

 _oh, really now, miya-san_ , the girls who follow you like little birds chorus. they titter louder when you grin, and just like that, their curiosities acquiesce, wonderfully easy, at the push of a little bit of charm. _what’s he like? why isn’t he here?_

 _he doesn’t like the day, only comes out at night!_ you laugh, watching the girls rear back in alarm. you laugh and laugh until they, too, laugh with you, and in this instance, in a kind of sense, you are not alone.

 _you mean, like a vampire?_ they coo, they tease. _like some forbidden creature of the dark?_

 _ah_ , you tilt your head, tapping a finger to your chin in a gesture akin to contemplation. if only it was that simple. _perhaps so, perhaps not._

 _oh, you! always playing at mystery!_ and with glee, they disperse, fluttering giddily away, farewells flung over their dainty shoulders like souvenirs for you to scoop up and keep.

( but that’s not what you want. )

now your admirers are gone; you’re back to one.

you’re back to being the only one.

( and that’s not something you want either. )

 

 

 

 _i have a twin, you know_ , you proclaim to your team. _he’s probably just as good as me._

 _is that so, miya-kun_ , comes their reply. they don’t sound as dubious as you expected them to be. it’s, in all honesty, relieving. _why don’t you bring him in? let’s see him play, let’s see if he lives up to your fame._

you glance at the ball clutched between your hands and you bounce it, just to relieve the twitch your fingers ache to release. once, twice, a few more times, when the ball slips and rolls beyond a distance you’re willing to stretch out for, you don’t chase after it. you let it be. _i don’t think that’s what i— he’d want._

the gazes of your teammates grow fixed; you start to feel like an insect, pinned, mounted, ready to be framed for all to view. a turnabout, really, considering how you’re usually the one who observes and pokes and prods: the entomologist. _and what he wants is…?_

you smile. _i don’t know. i’ll ask him later._

they nod, and courteously, leave it at that.

 

 

 

the table is set for dinner when you toe off your shoes and pause by the kitchen. your mother is there, humming as she fills four little bowls to the brim with rice, and the wafting steam from the open rice cooker reddens her fingers and cheeks. as if on cue, she looks up, smiling at you.

she says, _welcome home. do you think he’s awake yet?_

you huff, because you know better. _he’s just being lazy again. i’ll go kick his ass._

 _language, atsumu_ , but she’s laughing because she knows better too, and she waves you off when you leave to trek up the stairs heading towards your room. _good luck!_

( what luck it is, truly, to have such a sleepyhead of a twin. )

 

 

 

 _hey, you_ , you say to the lump on your bed that’s trying to hide further under the blankets; it grunts when you poke it with a foot. _it’s already dusk, wake up._

slowly, finally, your brother’s head deigns to peek out from the sea of cotton it was previously buried in, and his bleary eyes stare their blame at you before shifting to check the time on the phone laid beside his pillow. he grimaces. _sorry._

without warning, you flop on top of him, thinking he deserves this bit of retribution, and also, because you miss him, so it feels like an accomplishment when he doesn’t wriggle away like how he usually does when you want to be affectionate. he even makes the effort to untangle a hand to rub your back. _oh, you’re spoiling me. this is rare._

 _seemed like you needed it._ a yawn. _tell me what’s wrong._

you bite down on the _nothing_ that almost slips through your teeth. instead, you say, _do you want to play volleyball with me?_

his hand now reaches higher, patting your head. _if we could work around our hours, i don’t mind._

 _but do you really want to?_ you press on, to be sure. _don’t just agree for the sake of humouring me._

( because what you want and what he wants, sometimes, can be two entirely different things. )

 _i want to be with you when i can_ , your brother answers after a long minute. _so, yes, i’d like to play volleyball with you— though now that brings in the question of how and when...yet another pain._

you laugh and flick at his frown, lightly, relieved. _no takebacks! and the real pain here is you always being late for dinner anyway._

 _whatever_ , he says and promptly rolls you both off the bed. _let’s go eat. then, it’s time for you to sleep._

( a part of you grumbles: _unfortunately_. )

 

 

 

 _i have a twin, you know_ , you speak, this time, to no one in particular. _it sucks how he’s never up unless the sun’s down. sometimes, i wonder, if he’s some kind of god of the night, if that’s why he’s so hard to catch around, and sometimes i almost wonder if i just dreamed him up, that’s he’s just an imaginary friend i found._

_but when i reach out, he’s still there, so, i’ll take what i can get._

_and one day, we’ll play volleyball together somehow._

**Author's Note:**

> title from: [Lifetimes by Oh Wonder.](https://www.youtube.com/watch?v=JKEJqCCxJTs)


End file.
